


Welcome To The Night

by Gabby



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: F/M, Farrell ruined my life wih this damn movie!, I Don't Even Know, I can't even, Jerry's a general mess in this one, Post-Movie(s), Sexual Content, Why?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:58:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabby/pseuds/Gabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 2011 movie. Jerry hasn't been the same exactly since his final confrontation with one Charley Brewster... then, one resurrection spell and a year in a half of stewing later, finds himself setting up roots again in yet another small town. Only to set his sights on an immensely beguiling human woman he only <i>half</i> wishes he could unmeet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nice And Exciting

**Author's Note:**

> So, things in life have been a bit of a mess lately and I've turned more to my favorite past time of watching movies and let me tell you - no, sit back, prepare to be amazed - vampires are very much my jam. I mean, kinda. They haven't been really as of late because of a few things have come out and given the genre a bad name and anyway, who can hold a grudge, am I right? Anyhow, I was curious about seeing this movie when it came out but, stopped because I wasn't that interested and now, three years later, I inexplicably changed my mind and when I couldn't find the thing anywhere, plugged my two-in-one to my television and my mother and I watched it from the internet to our big screen (which, first time I'd ever done that, so it was _bomb ___) after first seeing the original 1985 version.
> 
>  
> 
> _Ended up enjoying both movies for very different reasons and since then have become a fiend in persuit of fanfiction dedicated to the remake specifically (like that Jerry better, I just do!) until deciding to write my own because there's just not enough Jerry/OC on here._
> 
>  
> 
> _Sooo... Enjoy. Or don't. Or whatever you wanna do._

The first time he sees her, it's just finished raining.

Which, you know, after Nevada and his demise, however brief, shouldn't be so surprising because the next place he chooses to go is the Pacific Northwest. Oregon, to be more specific. Because it's kinda nice. And there's greenery for miles in every direction. And sorta okay looking houses that live atop all that green.

And yeah, _this_ just in, it rains a lot. An overcast sky is nothing extraordinary in these parts.

And overcast skies are his friend because he's old, you see. Which means he can handle a few things that newbies cannot.

But, only a few. Like very, very, very early mornings where the sun is still playing arm wrestle with the departing moon. Shoving it's round, florescent, crevice-filled friend to the side to take it's place in waking the world up and getting them off their asses.

Such is the perpetual state of the full clouds above Portland.

All them sparkly fuckers from those ridiculous tween novels had the right idea.

That and he can go a long time while without having to feed much. Can go a few days without needing day rest. Or, if he so chooses - oh, he _chooses_ , he _chooses_ often - he doesn't necessarily have to sleep in dirt. He's been doing that shit for the past year in a half. To recover. And heal. From you know, being burned to actual cinders by that sniveling, _defiantly_ nosey Brewster kid.

On that note, this is also the furthest from the Vegas desert, if it matters any.

Anyway, the first time he sees her, it is indeed post-rain. A light trickle splattering gently along the trees near his new house. A few thick ones laying like big diamonds before slopping off entirely. The cool air smelling of fresh dew, wet dew on lawns.

A week here already and he could tell you the usual weather patterns on any given day.

He hadn't survived four hundred years on his looks alone, thank you.

It's early evening so, he's outside and cleaning out his gutters, white wifebeater already dirty from his chores from earlier on, when he gets chatted up by a bubbly golden blonde - _what is it? Trixie? Kitty? one of those stripper names._

She's nice. Almost sweet. Neighborly.

And she flirts with him. Flirts with him  _hard_. Twirling her hair in her well-manicured fingers. Her laugh high when he makes a comment misconstrued as a joke. Eyeing him like dinner.

He allows it for a short while. Even flirts back a little. Lets his eyes meet hers lasciviously as she undresses him like she's in a candy store. And it's like, whatever, he's had nearly a whole lifetime of this. He can enjoy the attention.

Then _she_ comes along.

He can sense her before he even sees her. A sweet, succulent, borderline irresistible scent of _something_ breaking through the oceanic smell of rain water and causing his head to turn to see a brunette stepping out of a small electric car.

"Annie!" The blonde - god, _is_ it Trixie? - gestures towards her across the street. "Annie! Come here! We have a new neighbor. Come say hi!"

He drops down from his ladder as the brunette fights an eyeroll before crossing the street, clad in a t-shirt and jeans, not unlike her flirty friend. Though instead of flip-flops and a clearly colorful bra to top things off, the shirt she wears extends to her elbows and is accompanied by knee-high boots.

It's also clear here that while her friend is made to hog all the attention, she could honestly care less.

"This is Annie." Blondie proudly wraps her arms around the woman's once she's across the street with them, smiling widely as if to show her off. "My brilliant, brilliant little baby sister, Annie." She exclaims, causing the other woman to flush in embarrassment, as the taller blonde presents her like a piece at a museum.

"Brilliant, huh?" He can't help but, inquire. Dark brows going sky high. Amusement echoing faintly in his voice. Wanting to see if she'll glare at him for trying her upon first meeting or blush scarlet in further bashful embarrassment.

His tactic works and the deep crimson she turns pleases him to no end, her head shaking quickly."I'm not-"

"She's a paralegal. A very, very awesome paralegal." Her sibling chirps, interrupting before she could object, grinning as if showing off a prize trophy.

_And what a prize trophy it is._ He thinks, taking stock of the fine woman in front of him. Who stands at about five-foot-two if he could guess it. And had dark chestnut hair she held up in a loose bun, a few wispy strands dangling over her neck and clavicle. His fingers inexplicably itching to reach out and smooth them aside. Caress the smooth, milky skin there with his rough fingertips.

And he could also tell she's very... _well-endowed_. Can see the high slope of grade A breasts hidden in her modest top all the way down to the tuck of trim waist ending in the outright flare of broad, healthy hips he could easily imagine holding onto in the throws of sweaty, passionate-

He could swear he'd been staring, he can admit that much but, the two woman aren't paying enough attention to notice. One singing praise of one while the other tries in vein to back away from the one-man audience that is him. Kind of avoiding eye contact a little bit before giving up the ghost and looking at him.

"Hi." He holds his one clean hand out to the woman now known as Annie. "Jerry Dandridge."

He smiles, knowing what the whole image conveys: That he's kind, welcoming, and friendly.

He also throws a little sex in there for good measure. Angling his body towards her just so. Setting a seductive edge to his grin. An untamed appreciation in his gaze as he eyes up and down not unlike he'd done to her sister a long while ago but, with more aplomb. More subtly.

She's already got a captive audience in him and he has no problem letting her see that.

He could tell it works a little bit. Throws her off. Pupils dilating. Breathing catching in that way he always enjoys. Yet holding her cool in a manner that _almost_ impresses him.  "Annie." The hand he holds in his own is small. The fingers slender. The wrist petite and thrumming with life as he presses a thumb to the pulse there. The rush of blood like a siren song. The contact alone electric to him. "Nice to meet you."

Up close she's even more striking. Flawless, porcelain skin he just knows is as soft as it looks. Luscious, full, pink lips that immediately send his mind to dirty, downright filthy places. A flash of white teeth peaking from said lips. Eyes the color of the Emerald Isles.

She's very... _lovely_.

_Oh so lovely._

Yeah, _lovely_ is definitely the word he would use.

 

 

 

"Sooo..." Annie could already the curious squeal of delight in Tracy's voice and tries to find it within herself to be in the mood for it while putting away groceries.

And try as she might, she doesn't find any. Still somewhat reeling from her encounter with the handsome, dark-eyed, charming stranger from across the street- _Jerry, his name is Jerry, don't act as if you don't remember it from five minutes ago!_  her loud mind caws at her - bones still rattling from the impact of those nearly, crazily enough, _ancient_ seeming eyes on her, even in greeting.

"So?" She says nonchalantly instead of giving her big sister room to boot and rally. Hoping against hope that she'll just let it be and not bring up their new neighbor.

"Sooo... what'd you think of the new hottie?"

She only shrugs. "I don't think of him."

But, no go and she feels the perky perch herself on the kitchen counter, legs swinging like a small child. "You liked him..." She begins to tease in sing-song tone of voice.

"Don't-"

"-You thought he was hot-"

"-Please-"

"-You thought he was sexy-"

"-No-"

"-You were drooling-"

"-Please don't do this-"

"Just admit it and I'll stop!"

She sighs, knowing her sister means well. Even though she'd felt like a show pony when she had introduced her to... _him_. Still feeling the echo of a blush creeping on her cheeks as she recalls Tracy's praise and the way her neighbor had raised an amused brow at her. Dark, deeply penetrating eyes damn near glinting in her direction as he had offered her a handshake and the ensuing sensation of those rough callouses on her palms. The electricity shooting through the contact all the way towards the center of her body.

In the midst of leaning over her sink to wash vegetables for dinner, her eyes drift up almost without her permission towards the kitchen window.

And sure enough, there he is. Still working away at those gutters. Well-muscled arms flexing in his movements. Body moving with a fluidity that's at turns interesting and more than a little torturous. Filling her mind with an abundance of dirty, filthy scenarios-

When he suddenly looks up, she drops her eyes.

_God, get it together, girl._

"He has cold hands." She points out, scrubbing at her produce in kind.

A scoff behind her. "So?"

"So, stop acting like he's the second coming or whatever." She says with more than a little mild exasperation, furiously cleaning the veggies. "Besides he's probably one of those guys that's just polite once and then never gives you the time of day again."

"Hmm. Reminds me of somebody."

"Ah, come on. I'm not that bad."

"All the more reason for you two to get together." Her sister says happily. "You can teach each other about... _socializing_."

"Why is it that when you say that, it makes it sound like it would involve a horizontal surface and less clothes than normal?"

"Hey, _You're_ the one with the image in your head. Not me."

Oh boy, does she have an image.

"Can we just... drop this, please?"

It takes a couple of minutes but, then she hears a deep sigh and a dropping of feet coming closer. "Alright." She feels Tracy appear at her shoulder. "Mark my words. You're gonna regret not taking this chance later but, okay, sure, I'll leave it. For now."

She exhales in relief, knowing the matter will be dropped for the time being. 'Cause she'd pretty much had it with men for at least a little while and most certainly, would not want to get something started, only to get disappointed for the _thousandth_ time. Especially with a man she had just met. And who probably won't ever say two words to her again.

Nope. Absolutely not.

When she looks out her window again, he's not there anymore.

"So, what's for dinner?"

 

 

 

  Jerry feels a slight breeze in the air pick up as he steps out of his house. Locking his door behind him and pocketing his keys before quickly jumping down his front steps to head to work. Noting the cooler, post-rain air drifting brusquely over his face.

Weather is never really an issue for him. He can barely feel just the slightest blow of wind in his direction. Nor the _highest_ bout of heat possible.

Well, he can feel tiny bit of something when it hits above ninety or below zero in certain areas that usually come in the form of light sweat or the most featherlight goosebumps on his already ice cold skin.

 He barely remembers having a pulse or heartbeat but, he _does_ remember the way the sun once felt on his skin during his youth. During his young manhood fighting a war that, at times, seemed infinite and unending.

Well, it's not like he thinks about it much. But, when he does, it almost feels like he's remembering someone else's life.

Someone else's _human_ life.

Because, honestly, he doesn't miss it. He doesn't miss the struggle. Doesn't miss the starvation or disease he'd encountered and had to survive through.

He doesn't miss the strife or pain. None of it.

If anything, when the time had come, he'd welcomed being turned.

If there had ever been a poster boy for enjoying eternal life, he'd _probably_ be it.

Yet, still...

At his age, even he could admit it's become difficult to be as... enthusiastic about most things anymore. To be surprised. To be excited. Or impressed.

To find something worth his time and attention. Something (or _someone_ ) nice and exciting.

_Well_. He thinks, getting torn away from his previous thoughts as he sees the small brunette he'd met earlier in the evening, lugging a hefty garbage bag over her shoulder and then throwing it into her house's bin. _Speaking of nice and exciting._

Exciting indeed.

He'd no idea what it is about her. This woman whom he had met only a few hours ago. The one with the lustrous dark hair and big, green eyes.

The one with the scent that had nearly driven him to distraction. That deadly sweet, enticing fragrance that had made his senses sing and his gums ache. Like, he has no idea what he wants more: To sink his cock or fangs into her.

Maybe both. He'll just have to see.

"Hey." He has work. He really should go.

Not that he actually cares but, being on time and what not breeds less curiosity than being the new guy who's always late and only works nights instead of keeping a set schedule where he can work whatever fucking hours he wants just as long as he shows up.

Even he needs to make money still.

But, then... the very object of his own increasing curiosity is just across the way and _something_ - foreign, unknowable - is nagging him to get over there.

"Oh. Hi." She looks up from moving the trash bin and he almost wants to laugh at the fleeting expression of surprise in her eyes and as he steps closer, he also doesn't miss the way her shoulders go back. Her spine straightening.  That gaze eyeing him just this side of wearily.

"Annie, right?"

"Uh." She utters as if confused by his greeting her, leaning against her garbage disposal and he _does_ chuckle this time. "Yeah."

He realizes too late how much he enjoys saying her name. The way it rolls off his tongue like the sweetest of blood.

It kinda suits her but, at the same time, it also doesn't. With her dark hair and buxom exterior, he could swear she would fit with another moniker. Something different. Something more strong-sounding. Less light. Less sweet.

Regardless it still sounds good coming out of his mouth. _Annie._ _Annie. Annie. Annie..._

Though he could already guess that she  _is_ sweet. In a multitude of ways.

"The _brilliant_ one, correct?"

The ice breaker of his next question seems to work and he watches her let out a breath of a chuckle, her nose wrinkling in a such a way that he loathes to admit he finds adorable as she rubs at it before her face smooths back into place. "Ah, crap on a cracker, I forgot my sister said that." She directs an embarrassed half-smile in his direction. "Let alone to a complete stranger."

"Well, to be fair, I spent twenty minutes be chatted up by her so, the complete stranger part wasn't exactly-"

"-In the cards anymore?" She interrupts with a hint of sardonicism he doesn't really miss.

"Right." He amends, surprised by her levity. "She was nice though. Very-"

"-Overenthusiastic?"

He chuckles without meaning to now. "How'd you guess that one?"

"I know my sister." She shrugs, the tiny lift at the corners of that pink bow of a mouth of hers sending alarming signals up and down his body. "Be kind. She's a beautician. She's used to speaking out of school half the time. Only difference is, her clients and colleagues actually _appreciate_ that kind of thing."

"And you?" He can't help but, ask. His mind weighing and curious enough to push aside the usual niceties he'd normally indulge to appear as unsuspecting as possible but, this woman. _Annie_. Startlingly appealing yet very much _human_ Annie has gathered too much of his rare curiosity for him to bother anymore. "What are you like?"

The new questions throw her, he could tell and he tries very diligently to not find the blush that scatters her already rosy cheeks incredibly charming.

He fails.

"I'm the girl who's warning you that her sister is man-crazy and has an eye on the new, handsome stranger across the street." She responds archly, her body tilting and leaning against her trash bin.

His eyes elevator their way over her frame, not even caring if she notices or not. "You think I'm handsome?"

She actually _scoffs_. At _him_. Scoffs liked it's nothing. Strong, able-bodied men have died for _less_ at his hand and here she is _scoffing_ at him like he'd said the most ridiculous thing on earth. 

_Guts_. She has guts.

_Gutsy, gorgeous, intriguing creature._

"You know..." She says, greens eyes dancing with mirth. "...I thought I had you pegged and yet, I'm not even remotely surprised that that's the _one_ thing you picked up from what I just said."

"I am an opportunist."

"Equal opportunist." She corrects knowingly.

_Damn right_. He thinks automatically, gaze lingering over her once more and it's only when he's looking up again into those mesmerizing eyes again that he realizes he's been caught. Made, if you will. Her own stare wide and big. Almost Bambi-like.

Though, he'd never woulda thought Bambi could look so sexy.

A small wave of nerves co-mingled with a hint of attraction crashes over him and he has to silence the impulse to not move his own feet forward. Keep himself where he is.

There goes _that_ pull again.

There's a shift then. A seismic one. Great and pivotal. The humor all but, wiped out by something other. Something... nice and exciting.

"I, uh..." She utters, pointing a thumb behind her nervously. "...I should go, uh, get inside already. Early day tomorrow and what not."

He nods with her, for whatever reason, not having the heart to tell her that it's just after eight thirty and she doesn't need to go inside just yet.

As it is, he says nothing because he's probably late to work already and Bambi-eyes has distracted him enough to make him do something impulsive.

And he _doesn't_ like being impulsive. At least in the way she's inspiring in him to be.

"Goodnight."

"'Night." He responds, watching her walk away from him towards her front door before turning somewhat reluctantly back to his driveway to head towards his truck, fingers jangling with his keys.

"Hey?"

He turns around to see her at her door, peering at him in the most peculiar way. "It was nice meeting you." She pauses for a moment before completing her sentence. "Jerry."

And boy does he enjoy the way his name rolls off _her_ tongue. Seductive and soft in a manner he really does not expect it to be.

"You, too." He replies, almost mimicking her in trailing off before finishing with. "Annie." Tasting, almost savoring the sound of her pretty little name out of his mouth.

And he hardly doesn't her flush with color this time before she turns to disappear inside, sending him a small wave as she does.

After she does, he's left glued to the spot, thinking hard on this new predicament.

He hasn't felt like... well, he hasn't _felt_ in a long time. Not like this. Not to this degree.

And most certainly not for a human. Woman or otherwise.

He thinks back to Brewster. With his nosiness and annoyingly foolish courage to stand up to him like he had. To destroy him like so many men had failed to do so before him. Experienced hunters. Who could never get close enough to him before getting themselves either killed or if they'd been lucky enough, coming out alive but, irrevocably damaged.

Yet it had happened. He'd been snuffed out by none other than a bumbling teenage boy in a fire suit.

And with that Peter Vincent asshole, no less. _Gah_ , he should have ended that little fuck when he had the chance.

And yeah, okay, there'd might have intrigue present there. He's still man enough to admit when he'd been outdone. Doesn't happen often but, when it does, he knows how to appreciate a good lasting impression.

But, this is more than that. Way more.

And he will find out what it is.

He turns to leave at last. The air still smelling like her.

_Annie_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Roadside Assistance

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Tracy asks from her perch on her sister's bed, legs swinging upward as she lounges there. "I know you hate these things."

"No, I'm sure." Annie replies with a touch of reluctance, fixing up her earrings in the mirror. "I'm good. I can survive another stupid, mandated mixer that is designed to _fuck_ my entire world up." Spotting the blonde's expression from her bed, she reiterates. "But, yeah, no. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure." She nods, stepping into the one pair of black heels she owns because yeah, who is she, _Jessica Simpson?_

She must rather eat tin foil than own (let alone, _wear_ ) another pair of these tiny silent killers that most women wear without complaint just to make their asses look good and legs a little bit longer.

It's just like, no thank you. She would rather _not_.

Alas, her favorite flats does not a good outfit make and this is what happens when you live with a fashion-conscious beautician. Who is also your big sister that is also basically your _only_ friend.

Sad... sad but, oh so _true_.

God, she hates these things. These damn parties that a certain big Portland law firm throws once a year so their employees could fucking mingle whenever they want them to.

Well, she can't say that exactly. She's only been there for going on a full two years now. But, there are _rumors_.

This is essentially what happens when you finally land a good job at a semi-prestigious firm and go there for work and not to make friends. You end up having to miserably lug yourself to a mandatory social mixer wearing a dress and heels instead being hyped that you're gonna possibly hear about Diana from Accounting's _wild weekend_.

"Well." She hears Trace start from behind her. "At least you look hot. Which is more than I can say for those old bitties you work with."

 _Tight_. This sweater top is a little too _tight_ around her chest. "Some of them are your age."

"Right. And that small percentage probably look great. But, the rest do not."

She just laughs because god, she is gonna have an awful time.

Or, you know? Maybe this year will be different. Maybe she'll actually have a good time now. Maybe she will relax and not be such a spaz. Have fun. Maybe she'll make friends. Maybe she' will meet a guy that's not over forty and balding and/or sleazy and married-

-A flash of pure muscle and the killer smile living across the street comes quickly comes to mind-

-Or you know, no guy. No guy at all. And just because she's taking a nice, long break from such things. And not because of a certain neighbor. No. Not that. Most certainly not.

And with that curdling in her thoughts, Annie straightens in front of her mirror. Fixes her outfit once more. And thinks, _tonight is the night I end this social drought of mine._

Tonight is the night she will have a good time.

 

 

 

She ends up being wrong. So, so wrong.

She has a horrible time and while she could tell you that things could not have gotten worse, she would be the world's best bullshitter. The world's greatest con artist.

For starters, she ends up with a wonderful flat - as well as something that smells like a fuse burning somewhere around her damn _electric_ _car_ - tire in the middle of the one neighborhood that barely contains any houses - there's _one_! there's one, okay? there's one _tiny goddamn_ house way off in the distance that she can go to for assistance but, she can pretty much picture the hobo serial killer living in it so, no, she won't go there. She refuses to.

She stares at her phone for a long, long time because she's been having this odd, sneaking suspicion and she has no idea if she's right about this or not but, it couldn't hurt to try.

Her sister picks up on the third ring.

"Hey!" Tracy greets like she already knows she's been had. Been caught dead to rights. "How was the party-?"

"Oh, hellish." She drawls before getting to the point immediately. "Put him on the phone."

"Who?"

She squeezes her eyes shut because really, had she been born yesterday? "You know who."

"Ann, there's no one here-"

"Trace." She grits out, unable to handle her annoyance at her old nickname being thrown at her. "I know you two have been getting chummy for the past few weeks. There is beer in the fridge even though you hate it. And you're not that good of a liar now, put him on."

She hears a sigh and a shuffle before hearing a few muffled words through the phone line and waits.

The wait isn't that long and before she knows it, there's another, distinctly masculine voice on the other end.

"Hey." It drawls, all deep and husky and just stupidly affective.

She fights an instinctive shiver and replies steadily. "Hi, Jerry. How's it hangin'?" Then thinks the better of it. "Actually no, don't answer that. Not even gonna touch that-"

"Story of your life." He intersects smoothly.

"Haha." She responds dryly. "That's very funny. Are you the witty guy back at the construction site?"

"I get by." He says and she can just picture those impressive shoulders rolling back in a shrug.

"How sweet." She fires back with as much acid as she could. "Anyway, I need a favor."

She almost expects, as it has been for the past few weeks, some sort of inappropriate joke or some innuendo thrown her way because if there's one thing she has learned during brief encounters with Jerry Dandridge is that the man has no filter when it comes to certain opportunities to catch someone off guard.

Well, _her_. He enjoys catching _her_ off guard.

And with mostly flirting. Which she still does not understand.

Whether he's catching her taking out the garbage or she's approaching while he's working on his house, he'd still manage to utter a comment with a kind of... undertone. A level of dirty that she's sure no other man could pull off without sounding like a pig.

And it's all with her. At least, as far as she can tell.

She almost certainly doesn't expect for him to go suddenly serious and say. "What is it? Tell me."

"Um..." Her eyes dart around her surroundings a little. "...I'm in a somewhat sketchy part of Portland, if you can believe it." She takes a deep breath, gathering up courage to say what she has to next. "And..."

"And?"

She whooshes out an exhale. "And... I have a flat. So..."

"So, you want me to come down there to help you out?"

"That actually sounds a whole lot better than the words I had planned." She utters without thinking but, recovers quickly. "But, yeah, what you said."

He chuckles. A rich, low sound that echoes directly into her bloodstream. "Tell me where you are and I'll be there as fast as I can."

And with that promise, she quickly does just that and waits a grand total of twenty minutes, perched on her car hood and playing a game of Angry Birds, before spotting a familiar truck off in the distance, her impatience, boredom, and general grumpiness due to her flat tire and being replaced by a sort of joy.

(She's not- She is  _not_ happy to see him or anything. She's just happy for the help. It's _perfectly_ normal.)

"Well, aren't _you_ a sight for sore eyes?" Her savior for the evening says upon seeing her leaning her hip against her car as he gets out of his own truck and as he walks towards her, she notes it's the first time she's seen him in clothes that aren't caked in dirt and/or sweat and soot.

Instead, he's sauntering in her direction dressed in a black button-up and matching jeans. The cold, blue backlight of the full moon highlighting him in such a way that makes him seem almost... _predatory_. The stuff of nightmares that fathers tell their daughters to stay away from.

Their _delicate_ little baby angels who can get so easily swept away by a killer smile on an inhumanly handsome face sent their direction.

Regardless, she's not one of those innocents - is not anymore, hasn't been in a _while_ \- but, she's still not yet had enough experience with the opposite sex to know what's going on when she sees this man. The immediate heat low in her gut. The flutter in her chest.

(Also, it's true. By the time she'd grown in confidence and shed the pounds - and let's not forget the _glasses_ and  _acne_ - that had been such a problem in her youth, she had also been well on her way to earning her degree. Baring no time for trivial shit like _relationships_. Only getting enough dating in to at least that she'd actually had a _social_ _life_ like that.)

Well, no. That's a bald-faced lie. She can guess what the flutter is. She knows a crush when she feels one.

But, she's a grown woman. She can handle it.

She thinks.

"I really appreciate this." She says once he's kneeling and tending to her ugly, deflated tire, his movements sure and quick. Though she tries not to stare at those strong-looking, pale hands. The fingers long and almost elegant. Yet roughened. She can tell.

Much being the operative word because she's here, sitting atop her electric beetle, legs swinging in slight boredom as she peaks every now and again at the big, strong man fixing her tire and it's like fuck it, she knows how to handle most other things in life and so forgive her if she hadn't had the patience and/or time to learn how to deal with a flat tire.

"No problem." Said man replies as he leans up from his perch and as he stands up straight, right next to her sitting frame, she catches a whiff of soap and spicy cologne. All clean and masculine.

 _Stop it._ She hears in her head.

"But, I do have bad news."

"What? What is it?" She responses quick, new dread growing inside her. _Oh, please don't say it._

"I can take out your flat-"

"-Okay, then, what-"

"-But, you don't have a spare." He finishes, expressive brows raised.

She feels her eyes shut, her stomach ping-ponging. "No, I do not." She says, cringing before looking at her help for the night and seeing him giving her a look that had it been anyone else she might have misconstrued as sympathetic.

As it is, she barely knows him still, so how would she know?

Yet, she kinda does a little bit and he's been nothing but, polite - if a tad um, _flirtatious_ \- towards her.

So, she'll give him the benefit of the doubt. He _had_ come to her aid when he hadn't needed to in the midst of _whatever-the-hell_ with her sister.

_Speaking of which..._

"Thanks for trying, though." She begins, shuffling from one foot to the next in her nerve. Avoiding his eye because _god, please_. "Sorry if I interrupted your thing with Tracy."

"Who?"

She does look up at him now and is pretty sure the expression on her face is pretty close to incredulous. "My sister."

"Ah." He nods as though he's realized something important and her tummy flips at the sight of him, _luminous_ and _unnaturally_ handsome, in the moonlight. "Right."

Another feeling - one that's deeper and kind of _awful_ \- tightens her chest then. Though she tries shaking it off before speaking again. Her voice thankfully steady. "Right." She repeats because she's stupid and why the hell had she brought it up anyway? "Right. Well." She nods to herself. "I obviously don't have a car as if recently so..." She trails off, looking at him as he gazes at her with expressionless eyes - no surprise there. "...I'm gonna need a ride home. Do you mind?"

He just stares at her - that dark, _depthless_ stare - and it's a long minute (an _awkward_ minute) before she realizes she's not getting anywhere and says. "Okay." She amends, feeling that lovely stewing of mortification on top of the usual embarrassment she carries around 'cause why not? "Well, I'll just call a cab then." She mutters, taking out her phone.

She's in the midst of looking for cabs nearest to her when a cold, rough hand is suddenly removing it from her palm. And she can feel him there. Next to her. Closer than he's ever been. His longer, taller frame crowding her. So close to her that any sudden movement could brush up against the soft-looking fabric of his shirt.

Then he speaks. Voice a little more husky than before. "I can take you home."

She can see him in her side vision. So, _so_ close. An inexplicable ball in her throat. "Alright." She's able to say after clearing her throat. "I mean, thank you, you know, a-again." She adds, stumbling, before taking her chances and brushing past him, grabbing her phone from his hand along towards the truck.

Five minutes - and a mysterious phone call she sees Jerry take - later, they're on the road again and she is saying nothing.

_Nothing. Nothing. Nothing..._

What the hell is there to say? She has no idea what that was way back there. She'd nearly (nearly, _pfft!_ ) made a fool out of herself so, the less she speaks, the better.

So, what if he's got something going with Tracy? She's not- It doesn't bother her or anything. If nothing, she should be worried about them both. He seems _beyond_ sketchy - like, who the hell sleeps that much during the day? It's like, she knows the weather isn't all blue skies and sunshine here but, jeez - and well, her sister's a handful. Sexy and smart but, a little flighty. How could it even work-

She doesn't wanna overthink it. Whatever. It shouldn't matter to her. It doesn't matter to her.

The ride back to their neighborhood is maybe twenty minutes or less, if you think about it in reality, but it's amazing how the most silent, awkward car rides could seem like they last forever and it sure seems that way before they arrive in front of her house and she's already primed to leave, immediately snatching up her purse to get out.

"Thank you again for earlier." She says before turning to leave.

"Wait."

She freezes. Her heart thumping hard. A sweat breaking out from inside her body.

"Annie." The _turn around_ is left unsaid. Yet still present. Hanging there.

That fact alone does make her do just that and for the first time since she'd opened her big, stupid mouth over at that special of side road that had given her such trouble earlier, she meets that enigmatic pair of dark, knowing eyes once more. Clutching her purse like a safety net.

"I called my friend. A guy we use over at the sight." He says. "He's pretty good with cars so, he should get something done about yours in a few days or so."

"It's an electric car-"

"He specializes in that."

She nearly laughs because of course, there'd be an electric car expert in Portland. Awesome.

She mumbles through her hundredth thank you of the night and turns again to just get inside her house already when:

"Hey."

She faces him again 'cause what now?

"I'm not interested in your sister." He says, his features somehow softer than she's ever seen. His usually unreadable eyes glinting with something that seems like amusement and a whole other mess of things she doesn't wanna get into.

"What?"

"No offense but, your sister's a little... too much. Not really my type."

She feels her brows furrow, baffled. Tracy's _everybody's_ type. Seriously, most men - and sometimes women - just Tracy. She's taller than normal. Slender. Flawless. Golden blonde. Sweet.

Not that she really minds exactly. She would imagine the kinda hassle it'd be if she was the one who would bothered with all that attention.

She gets by fine but, not like her lovable, outgoing older sister.

She's so caught in her own thoughts that she nearly misses his next words. "... I mean, she's nice and all that." She hears before getting back to the moment and looking at him again. "But..." He continues, cocking an impressive brow at her, eyes glinting. "...She's not the one I'm interested in."

She's quite sure her own eyes almost pop out of her head as he holds her gaze, saying those words.

 _So, that settles it._ Her mind wryly scoops up. _He's interested in you._

She wants to play stupid. Wants to not be so surprised. But, she can't help it.

But, she can't and she is.

Her. He's interested in her.

_Holy Toledo._

He seems to get her shock and smiles at her. A full-on, flirtatious, sexual grin that causes her heart to speed up double-time.

"See you around."

And then he drives off. Leaving her there. Alone with her thoughts.

"Uh-oh." She says softly to the empty air. Breath leaving her in a gush of cool air. One name in her head.

 _Jerry_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) Hope you enjoyed. I have no clue where this is going exactly though to be honest, I do have a slight reference as to where I want it to go but, I'm also not very sure. So, hope you had a good read and please tell me what you think. Be honest. Be clear. But, not, you know, an asshole or whatever. I loved this movie tons and hope I wrote something worthy of it. Thanks again!!! :)
> 
> Also, the title of the story is from the song of the same name by Wizards of Oz featuring Josef Cruikshank. In case you were curious at all. ;)


End file.
